If Still Your Orchards Bear

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Brother, that breathe the August air
  Ten thousand years from now,
And smell --- if still your orchards bear
  Tart apples on the bough ---

The early windfall under the tree,
  And see the red fruit shine,
I cannot think your thoughts will be
  Much different from mine.

Should at that moment the full moon
  Step forth upon the hill,
And memories hard to bear,
  By moonlight harder still,

Form in the shadows of the trees, ---
  Things that you could not spare
And live, or so you thought, yet these
  Are gone, and you still there,

A man no longer what he was,
  Nor yet the thing he'd planned,
The chilly apple from the grass
  Warmed by your living hand ---

I think you will have need of tears;
  I think they will not flow;
Suppposing in ten thousand years
  Men ache, as they do now.